


It's Just Hair

by AbhorrentSelkie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy Era, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, FE3H Kinkmeme, Haircuts, M/M, Sappy, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentSelkie/pseuds/AbhorrentSelkie
Summary: “It’s not your fault.”“I know, I know… I just- I wish I would have gotten to you sooner, then-”“Sylvain,” he mutters, leaning back against the broad chest behind him, “it’s okay.” His lip quivers. “It’s just hair.” Even as he says it, he’s not sure he believes it.Sylvain gently, tenderly raises a hand to run his fingers through it. It feels just the same as always, soothing and familiar. “It hasn’t been this short since we were little,” he muses. “When was the last time you cut more than the ends?”Felix swallows hard. “Before… you know.”_____Felix gets an unexpected haircut. He does not take it very well.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	It's Just Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> Okay hear me out. I really want to see Felix caught in a situation where he has no choice but to cut his hair, or someone else cuts it off for him (with or w/out consent is up to filler!)
> 
> \- Feel free to come up with whatever scenario you like! An enemy grabs Felix by the hair so he has to cut it to free himself? Someone was super rude and stuck gum in his hair? Make it as tragic (or not) as you feel like going.  
> \- I mainly want to see the emotional response Felix has to having to cut his long hair! There's a lot of implications that he keeps it long/styles it like Glenn (at least pre-TS) so it has to have some kind of impact on him.  
> \- I'm fine with a ship fill or something more gen! As for ships, I can never say no to Sylvain or Dimitri, but I'm of course open to other pairings.  
> \- Pre- or Post-TS is fine!
> 
> \+ The initial cut is really messy and his hair is a wreck  
> \+ Others help him with styling his new hair  
> ++++ Some good ol' Felix crying

Felix scrabbles at the hand clenched tight in his hair, meaty fingers wound through the long silken strands and yanking mercilessly hard. He grunts in pain, scrambling to get to his feet, to find purchase in the muck under his knees even as he slips and slides in it. The hand holding him is forceful, keeping him helpless on his knees. His sword is way out of reach, his allies ever farther, desperately shouting his name as they attempt to break through the line of bandits separating him. Already, the kiss of cold steel is trailing over his exposed throat, the promise of death sending a shiver of dread down his spine.

He has only two options: die on his knees, or free himself no matter the cost.

Between the two, he chooses the latter, pulling a slender steel dagger from where it’s sheathed, hidden in his boot in case of emergencies. He doesn’t try to stab at the man, it would do him no good. Instead, letting his eyes close in a moment of resolve, Felix grabs the man by the wrist and slices between the hand and his scalp.

He falls forward as the grip holding him in place is severed. A few remaining locks of hair fall in his face, uneven and crudely cut. Wasting no time, he scrabbles forward out of the man’s reach, snatching up his fallen sword.

When he turns, the man still has his hair clutched in his fist. It falls to the mud, stamped under his feet as his opponent stalks forward. Felix stands his ground.

With a shout, the line behind him finally breaks, and there is just a moment of thunderous hoof-falls before Sylvain is at his side on his chestnut steed, lance at the ready. Between the two of them, the man falls quickly. Felix lets Sylvain pull him up, settling in the saddle behind him as they rejoin their classmates. The rest of the bandits drop like flies around them, and the battle is won.

Felix tries not to think about it.

The eyes that fall on him make it nearly impossible not to.

Mercifully, no one says anything. Not the boar who eyes him with concern. Not Ingrid, who’s eyes are soft and sad. Not Sylvain, who he knows is dying to. Not the professor or the others, who likely don’t see what the issue is anyway.

They start their trek back to the monastery, sweaty, grimy, and covered in mud. Felix tries not to think about it. Once they return, everyone flocks toward the baths, and Felix washes quickly and efficiently. Even as he scrubs the grime and blood and dirt from what’s left, he tries not to think about it.

Felix stalks away back to his room. He avoids the mirror, setting about changing with his back stubbornly toward it. And as evening starts to set over the monastery, casting the room in darkness, he takes his time lighting candles, still pointedly refusing to acknowledge the mirror.

Until he can’t anymore.

It’s worse than he’d imagined. It was hacked away unevenly in his haste and desperation, angled awkwardly at a slant. A few sections in the front are longer, almost touching his shoulder still, where the rest sits at roughly the middle of his neck.

All he can do is stare.

A knock on the door barely rouses his attention, and though his visitor doesn’t announce themselves, he already knows who it is. “It’s open,” he barks. A moment later, Sylvain’s reflection joins him in the mirror, lips turned down in a deep frown, eyes full of concern and sympathy. He rests his hands on Felix’s shoulders, stoops down to press a light, lingering kiss on the crown of his head that would normally make him feel at least a little better.

Still, he can only stare at his reflection.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain sighs, hands slipping lower to wind around his chest, holding him tight. “I’m so sorry, Fe.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I know… I just- I wish I would have gotten to you sooner, then-”

“Sylvain,” he mutters, leaning back against the broad chest behind him, “it’s okay.” His lip quivers. “It’s just hair.” Even as he says it, he’s not sure he believes it.

Sylvain gently, tenderly raises a hand to run his fingers through it. It feels just the same as always, soothing and familiar. “It hasn’t been this short since we were little,” he muses. “When was the last time you cut more than the ends?”

Felix swallows hard. “Before… you know.” He nods. Felix hadn’t cut his hair since Glenn died. Call it sentimentality, but it reminded him of his brother. Glenn had always kept it long, long enough to braid or pull up in flowing tails. Fraldarius men tended to keep long hair anyway, something about tradition, but Glenn liked to keep his grown out longer than even that. While Felix didn’t go quite that far, there was a certain comfort in looking in the mirror and seeing Glenn looking back, even if just for the second it took to realize it was just his own reflection. “It’s a mess.”

Sylvain kisses the top of his head again. “I can trim it for you.”

“Okay.”

With another quick kiss, Sylvain retreats from the room, just for a moment. He returns a moment later with a pair of hair cutting scissors; the older boy had always preferred trimming his own hair, insisting that no one else could get it quite right.

Pulling up a chair behind Felix and draping a towel over his shoulders, Sylvain gets to work. The room is silent save for the rhythmic _snip, snip, snip_ of the scissors. Bits of dark hair rain down around Felix, gathering on the floor at their feet. Felix watches it fall through blurry eyes.

When the first tear falls, Sylvain pauses, reaching around to brush it away with his thumb. Felix’s chest shudders. “It’s okay,” he whispers, running a soothing hand over Felix’s arm, “you can let it out, love. I’ve got you.” A sob claws free, as if it was waiting for permission. “Do you want to stop for now?”

“No,” he chokes out. “Get over with.” Sylvain swallows hard but returns to work while Felix tries his best to keep still through the heaving of his chest.

By the time Sylvain is done, Felix’s hair is about the same length as Ashe’s. It’s too straight for the lightly disheveled look, more of a bob. It doesn’t look bad – Sylvain is skilled, and he took extra care to ensure that it came out nice.

But it’s not Felix.

No... it’s not Glenn.

Sylvain cleans Felix up, even as tears continue streaming down his cheeks and he hiccups from sobbing. He doesn’t bother with the mess on the floor before he grabs Felix’s hand, guiding him to the bed. Felix lets Sylvain hold him while he cries, the redhead whispering soft assurances in his ear.

It’s late by the time Felix finally cries himself out, still sniffling against Sylvain’s chest. His boyfriend is patient. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s sorry for.

“Don’t be, love.”

“You don’t have to stay…”

Sylvain kisses his temple. “I know I don’t.” He doesn’t move, and Felix is grateful. He peeks up at the redhead, sighs when Sylvain leans in to kiss him properly. Eventually, sleep takes them both.

When Felix wakes, late morning sunlight already streaming through the windows, Sylvain is gone, but there’s a note on the table, tented next to a plate of breakfast foods from the dining hall. _I told the professor you weren’t feeling well this morning. Sleep in today, Fe. -Sylvain_ _♥_

He eats his breakfast slowly, trying his hardest not to think about the embarrassment that’s starting to roil in his stomach. It had been a long time since he’s cried, especially that much. Especially in front of Sylvain. And all over some _hair_.

There’s no sense sitting around moping over it, he decides.

He joins his class for lunch in the dining hall a few hours later, dressed back in his Academy uniform, pointedly ignoring their stares. No one offers shallow placatives or well-intentioned compliments. Not even Sylvain, who runs a soothing hand over his knee under the table throughout their meal.

He’s not a fan of the short hair, he decides, perhaps a bit spitefully. The bob isn’t horrible to look at; it frames his face well and Sylvain really did do a good job on it. But it falls in his face on one side, and since it’s too short to pull up, he keeps having to angrily brush it back to sit behind his ear.

 _It’ll grow_ , he tries to remind himself.

He walks hand-in-hand with Sylvain to their afternoon class. It’s Hilda who first seems to notice the change, having not been there for the battle. “Ooh,” she muses as they pass her on their way to the Blue Lions classroom, “Felix, your new haircut is _super_ cute!”

“Thanks,” he spits out with a scowl, and practically drags Sylvain into the classroom. They take their normal seats at the back of the room.

Sylvain rubs his back in small, soothing circles. “Are you okay, Fe?”

“I’m fine.”

The redhead seems unconvinced, but lets the subject drop when the professor stands at her desk and begins her lecture. Felix pays it little attention, absently copying down Sylvain’s notes when he realizes he’s missed something important. His stupid hair keeps falling into his eyes all the while.

At dinner, the floodgates open, and he grits his teeth through the barrage of compliments from well-meaning classmates who don’t – can’t – understand why they’re met with carefully contained anger. Sylvain drags him back to his room as soon as Felix is finished eating, and they spend another evening wrapped up around each other, Sylvain patiently trying to soothe Felix’s irrational, conflicted feelings.

He tries his best to mentally prepare himself to do the same thing all over in the morning.

At breakfast, he’s met with a small bundle wrapped in parchment and tied with a nice, black bow sitting at his seat in the dining hall. The eyes of his classmates follow him expectantly as he turns the parcel over in confusion. “What’s this?” he demands.

“Well,” Annette begins, “we realize you’re really upset about what happened. And Ingrid…”

Ingrid sighs, looking a little sheepish. “I told them about… about Glenn.” Felix scowls but he holds his tongue.

“Anyway,” Ashe picks up quickly, “we noticed that your hair kept getting in your eyes.”

“And we asked Hilda to make you something!” Mercedes concludes with a warm smile, gesturing to the parcel.

“We asked for her discretion,” Dedue assures him, “so she will not bring it up again.”

“We hope you like it,” Dimitri adds. “Why don’t you go ahead and open it.”

Felix stares at the little package, and with a sigh, rips open the paper. Inside is a clip of silver, subtle and sleek. Etched delicately on the surface is the Crest of Fraldarius. He swallows hard, staring at the thing, unsure what to say. “Thanks,” is all he manages.

He stubbornly tries to blink away the tears that are already pooling in his eyes, but it’s a loosing battle. Sylvain, ever attuned to Felix’s emotions – for better or worse – notices in an instant, wrapping an arm over Felix’s shoulder and gently urging him away from the group. He steers them to a secluded spot among the hedges, and the second they are alone, a shuddering sob escapes.

Sylvain holds him, rocking him back and forth as Felix wrestles between his overwhelming emotions and the feeling of irrationality. “It’s just hair,” he sobs, not really meaning to say it aloud, “why am I so fucking-”

“Shh,” Sylvain murmurs, “it’s okay, Fe. You’re allowed to be upset.” And once again, Sylvain holds him until his tears stop running and his breathing evens. He cups Felix’s chin, tilting his face up toward his own. Felix is sure he looks a mess, splotchy and red, cheeks streaked with tears. He offers his handkerchief. “Feeling any better, love?”

Felix takes the handkerchief and dries his eyes, nodding lightly. “Thanks.”

He kisses Felix softly. “Of course.” A finger moves to tuck the annoying lock of hair behind his ear. “Would you like me to put the clip in for you?” Another nod, and Felix hands it over. Sylvain is gentle and delicate as he slides the clip into place, the loose lock of hair finally restrained. “Beautiful.”

 _It’s just hair,_ he tries to remind himself. Felix lets Sylvain hold him a little longer.


End file.
